


Silent Night

by avidvampirehunter



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (But He's a Gentleman About It), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Worship, Consensual Sex, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Mutual Pining, Office Party, Quiet Sex, Rated M for Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animals!, Reysexual Ben, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Snowed In, Some Humor, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 09:25:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17363393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidvampirehunter/pseuds/avidvampirehunter
Summary: Ben Solo, one of the higher-ups at First Order Insurance, has spent roughly one year dreading the inevitable—falling for Rey Kenobi, one of his most mysterious and alluring employees. Little does he know that Rey herself has been fighting the same temptations, nor that she may be losing the will to even try.When he ends up drawing her name for the annual Secret Santa gift exchange, the merciless hand of fate pushes them together through the storm raging outside—and in their hearts.





	Silent Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elemie89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elemie89/gifts).



> I don't even know where to begin with this! I'm so sorry that it came so late. If it makes you feel any better I got halfway through before my laptop decided to restart and delete a huge chunk of my progress. That, plus some feelings inspired by the season and a generous dollop of emotional exhaustion, made it hard to get motivated to write again.
> 
> But Em, you are so amazing, and so worth it. I wanted to bring this to you as a perfect gift. Thank you so so much for being so patient and understanding. Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve a friend like you, or like the ladies in our Sister Wives chat, but you have all given me such a great gift that I know I don't have to repay. ♥

 

It’s cold. The snow gathers on the ground—not in quiet approval of the shining stereotypes perpetuated in the West, with its smooth, untarnished blankets and shimmering, daylight innocence—but in striking, muddy defiance. A rebellion hidden in the heat of the pavement, where snow accumulates and turns to mush, where the grey of the towering cityscape casts its shadow over all.

Ben’s footprints, large as they are, fade from behind him as he approaches the awesome sight of the Chandrila Hotel, a newly-refurbished building, gleaming with polished money and youth. This will be the first Christmas the place has ever seen—who is to know how many beds have gone unused? Untarnished? Heat blasts him as he enters, overnight bag light yet heavy in his hand as he is waved into the main lobby.

A Christmas tree looms in the center of the massive space, the red and gold shimmer of holiday mood sinking into his eyes like a stinging chemical reek. He passes it by without second thought, following his memory to Conference Room B, his heart beating unsteadily in his chest.

 

_Two Weeks Earlier..._

Sighing, Ben reshuffles the files, sorting them away in the bleak light of his office. First Order Insurance has begun to tax even _his_ copious efforts to remain dutiful. This is always a terrible season for the business of others keeping themselves from danger, regardless of the premiums they pay.

And yet, he knows, he cannot bring himself to regret accepting the offer to include automobile coverage.

A knock sounds at his door.

“Come in.”

Armitage Hux, an order coordinator with a striking aptitude for file accuracy, enters with an air of supreme confidence, his chin held with an almost regal, if not unsightly, tilt. “Just checking in to see if you plan on attending the annual holiday party this year.” He quirks a brow. “Do you?”

Ben frowns, leaning on the arm of his leather chair. It creaks. “I have a lot on my mind, Hux.”

Mistaking Ben’s aversion for some shared holiday hatred, Hux’s eyes flicker. “Don’t we all. Still, your employees will look to you. Do try to at least make an appearance?”

At Ben’s glower, Hux makes a hasty exit. Were it not for the new codes of conduct regarding office positivity, Ben would have terminated Hux’s position long ago for such challenges to his authority. But the man has his uses—the company would be crippled without his tact.

Ben hunches in his chair, turning his head to look out the window. The sky hovers beyond, choked with clouds. He spots the sharp remnants of forming icicles, their stalactites chilling in sight alone.

“Ben?”

Ah, a familiar voice. He turns back, met by the visage of perhaps the _most_ useful of his employees. Met by a sudden compulsion, he rises, unable to resist greeting her fully. “Rey. What is it?”

The serious look forms on her face as it always seems to do, her jaw strong, her brow taught, rarely ever relaxed save for the few moments he’s glimpsed her without that storm cloud hanging over her—the one he knows all too well—perhaps in sunny days or the arrival of some new Ficus tree in the break room. She has always been a simple, straightforward, dreaming woman of complexity. It’s a fiery spirit he has always admired.

Sometimes tragically so.

“It’s about my bonus check,” Rey admits outright. “I thought it was supposed to be fifty dollars more this year…”

His brow furrows. “Do you have it on you? The paystub,” he asks, outstretching his hand.

Her eyes linger on his fingers, for only a moment, before she seems to return to herself. “Yes,” she says, reaching into the pocket of her slacks, pulling free the folded sheet. “Here.”

He takes it when she hands it to him, the warmth of her fingers just out of reach, before he unfolds and scans the timeline. “It says here you began working in November.”

“Of last year, yes,” she concedes. “It’s just that,” she pauses, as if struggling to restrain herself, “I know other employees joined this year and got the same amount. I thought it was supposed to double…”

Ben bites his cheek, glancing at her. Her eyes probe him, as though searching for deceit, or perhaps hope—neither of which he will give. “You missed the cutoff date,” he informs sullenly, handing it back to her. “Unfortunately, that policy won’t go into effect until next year.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, averting her eyes. Something strikes him at the sight—never before has he seen her so downcast. “I see. And there’s…?” She shakes her head, waving her hand as she stiffly turns and makes for the door. “Nevermind. Thanks anyway. See you at the party,” she breathes, and escapes out into the hall.

Ben moves to stand in the doorway, watching as she scuttles back to her station, out of sight.

He’s had to turn down money-grabbing employees for six years—peons who thought themselves worthy of more pay than what a cubicle can fill. Mostly it was underhanded, fast-talking men like Hux, or perhaps a middle-aged mother touting pictures of her children playing in their lavish home in some half-assed attempt at sympathy.

But Rey… this woman he knows so little about… she did not grovel for more, or fight an unbending and yes, somewhat unfair policy. She came only with a question. She never looked at him with fear, as so many others tend to do (because he _is_ quite imposing at times, especially during fourth quarter). No. Now that he thinks about it, it was more like sadness. Silent and subdued.

 _What a private woman,_ he muses, shutting his door.

He goes to sit at his desktop, finding a notification waiting for him. He clicks the small mouse in his massive paw, and is taken swiftly to a message from the department of human resources.

_Last chance to sign up for the First Order Holly-Jolly Holiday Party! Please remember that all attending employees are encouraged to participate in the annual Secret Santa gift exchange. Dinner provided. For more information, please reply to this email or call Finn Freedman at ex. 2187. Thank you; Happy Holidays!_

Ben considers the email for a moment, his mind a stirring blizzard. Shadows of snowflakes dance over his face in the dim light of his office, and in the sudden chill his thoughts gather and roll, down and down until they are left dangling off the precipice at the end of his fingers until a message has been typed and sent.

Within the hour, he receives another email:

 _Good to hear you’ll be attending, Pres. Solo. Our randomizer selected Rey Kenobi as your Secret Santa recipient. We will see you at 5:00pm, December 23r_ _d_ _at the Chandrila Hotel._

 

_December 23_ _rd_ _…_

Rey sighs, leaning her head back. Her neck pops blissfully over the lip of the chair, her eyes losing themselves in the bright fluorescence of the hotel conference room.

 _Nice and warm,_ she considers, soaking in the heat. Lost in her trance, she jumps when she hears the door open, the slam of the powerbar providing sudden fanfare for her boss, Ben Solo.

For a second he stares at her, then takes in the room. “You’re the only one…?”

“So far,” Rey smiles, watching as he comes nearer. Fat, white flakes cling to his open trench coat, the ends of his hair slightly damp over his scarf and black-knit sweater. It’s a nice look for him—different from the business casual she’s used to. She holds up her phone. “Finn texted me and said he was running late. He’ll be here soon.”

Ben seems to consider her for a moment, sitting down beside—but not too close—to her. It used to be unnerving when he did that, just staring and _existing,_ but after many a late-night internet perusal, along with some light reading, Rey has come to the conclusion that it’s just his way of processing the world around him.

She also came to the conclusion that it is unbearably adorable.

“Are you two close?” he asks suddenly.

The quiet and depth of his voice rumbles through her, so potent she could swear it’s vibrating the legs of her chair. “I suppose so,” she replies lamely, picking at a chipped corner of her phone case. “We’ve met for coffee a few times after work.”

When Ben doesn’t reply, Rey only has a moment to notice the stiffness in his shoulders before the door slams open again, Finn struggling inside with armfuls of grocery bags.

 _Speak of the devil,_ Rey scoffs merrily, trotting over to him with waiting arms. “Here, let me help you with that.”

When the bags are set Finn tugs off his gloves, smiling at Ben from under his scarf. “Hey, Solo! Glad you could make it—”

Ben glowers in awe. “Did you just call me ‘Solo?’”

“—It’s five to five, time to get this party started!”

 

It’s a disorganized mess, the whole thing.

The decorations are half-hearted, at best, Finn’s haphazard tape job leaving the streamers uneven. Hux wrinkles his nose when he arrives, but nonetheless rolls up his sleeves to assist, setting things to rights on his own—as is his preference, anyway.

Some employees bring treats, though the dinner is catered. Coruscant Catering is quick and efficient when they arrive, planting the heated tubs of anything on the spectrum between vegan and carnivore.

Ben oversees their payment, signing the paperwork. He glances up from his pen just as Rey is in line with Rose, one of their I.T. staff, partaking gleefully of ravioli squash and hot butter rolls.

Her coat is off, now—the soft cream of her tight sweater complimenting her rosy, wintry complexion. For a woman who tans so easily, as he remembers from her work in the Summer, she makes for an excellent specimen.

Roughly thirty employees arrive, dropping off their gifts at the pathetic excuse for a tree in the corner. Finn breaks out the alcohol, acting as bartender while Ben shuffles to retrieve his overnight bag. He crouches, peering over his shoulder. While no one is looking, he digs into his overnight bag, retrieving a small sack overflowing with tissue paper. He nestles it in with the rest, its look extraordinarily plain amidst the more festive wrappings, finding his heart beating erratically again.

He sits opposite Hux with his plate, the two of them left in relative isolation. Though Ben would prefer eating alone, eating in silence with a detestable co-worker is far more preferable than solitary among a din of uproarious holiday cheer.

And it’s with his mouth full of rather expensive grilled chicken—far too dry for his taste—that a familiar frame seats itself beside him.

“Are we allowed to say ‘Merry Christmas’ at a holiday party?” Rey asks tiredly.

“The policy lacks any restrictions,” Hux inserts, not looking up from the E-reader he brought with him. “Say whatever you want.”

“Hm,” she hums thoughtfully. “Alright. Thanks.”

Ben swallows, studying her, then the glass in her hand. It looks decidedly… watery. “No drink?” he probes.

Rey offers him a half-smile, her mouth dark and pretty in the dimmed lighting—a function Finn miraculously found in an effort to “set the mood.” “No,” Rey agrees, holding her water carefully. “I don’t drink.”

He blinks at that. “Why not?”

She shoots him a quizzical look. “I’m not old enough.”

Awe encompasses him for a moment, his admiration of her suddenly teetering on a dangerous precipice. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be twenty in January. Oh, are those cookies over there…?”

Ben nearly balks at that—and at the strange relief that fills him. Somehow he had never known she was still so young. Her maturity had blinded him to any thought about it. But such maturity, he knows, doesn’t come without a price.

So as she leaves her water and traipses off for dessert, the deadly sway of her hips only continues to rack up its sums.

Rey reaches the sugar cookies first, plucking a frosted tree from the bunch and loading her plate with enough to raise a brow. But it’s Christmas, and the food is free. She’s never been one for baking. Really, it feels like she never has the time to even _consider_ it. That, and—

“Hey, everybody!” Poe Dameron jeers, his voice ringing out over his umpteenth glass of hard, sparkling cider. “It’s Secret Santa time; get yonder asses over to the tree and make some gay!”

Rey snorts as the small crowd cheers him on, migrating to where the cutest, tiniest tree Rey has ever seen in her life sits patiently waiting. They take their seats at the tables nearby, free of crumbs and decorative debris.

“Everyone gets a number,” Finn explains, passing around a classic Santa-hat. The order you draw is when you get to open it. Rose will be taking pictures, so make sure to smile.”

Rose waves from the wall. “Hi~!”

He comes to Rey and she smiles, plucking the number free. It’s a decent number, not too early and not too late. She looks up when Finn gets to Ben, whose massive height stands towering and broody against the wall. He uncrosses his arms to take his stub, looks at the number, and finds her eyes.

Her heart nearly puddles in her shoes when she sees him look to her. He turns his number around, the number **29** glaring at her. And though his face is without humor, she realizes the joke, and smiles at him.

She’s surprised he didn’t know her age—he seems to know everything. And, although she knows he was born a little less than thirty years ago, he seems to be quite intent on looking more and more handsome by the day.

The gift opening starts, each person genuinely surprised by what they open. Rey watches with barely-concealed glee when Finn opens the present she got for him, glad that the randomizer matched her to one of her closest colleagues. Of course it doesn’t say _who_ it’s from, but as soon as he opens up the gift card to their frequented coffee shop, The Brewing Resistance, he immediately swarms her with a tight hug.

From the wall, Ben scowls at the exchange, wondering if it’s against company policy to allow this. An intrusive thought claims he could say he saw Finn groping her—but then again, he would rather not think of _that,_ either.

Rose scoots close to him, getting a wide angle with her camera. “Hey, Boss.”

“Miss Tico.”

“Ugh, they are so cute together,” she groans, seeming genuinely gutted.

Ben recognizes that slope in pitch and cadence in her voice. It’s the same as the one crying in his chest. He sees his opportunity for truth, now. The final nail in his coffin. “Are they?”

“Together?” Rose asks. When he nods, she offers a small, devilish smile. “Not yet. Finn’s into her, but, just between you and me,” her voice drops to a conniving whisper, and suddenly Ben is positive she’s had more than a few drinks. “…I think she has her eye on someone else.”

Disappointment surges in him. Again. “Ah.”

“She’s single, though,” Rose huffs, beginning to move on to her next angle as Ms. Phasma grimly opens up a package of chrome polish. “Other than that, there’s not much I know about her.”

Dumbfounded, Ben watches as Rose goes, the word _Single_ on loop in his thoughts, oh so close to spinning out, and he wonders if he should be considering this at all—consider letting himself crash and burn.

When Rey’s turn comes, her heart is pounding, her fingers trembling with eagerness. She takes the kraft bag gently—it’s not quite Christmas-y, but a solid charcoal grey. Still, she gently pries apart the flimsy paper, peeking inside, and is very glad she didn’t blindly reach in, because there, sitting so small and comfortable in its nest, is a flowering cactus.

“Oh, wow,” she murmurs, gently coaxing it out, mindful of her fingers. She pulls the little guy free, its bulbous shape and prickly pines standing proudly under the scrutiny of the office. While some wrinkle their nose at it, or gush like Rose, Rey can’t help but quietly admire this small gift, feeling something like a kinship with its sharp pikes and stubborn will to survive.

And when she looks up to find Ben’s eyes on her, so soft that someone could almost mistake it for a smile, she loves it even more.

Poe, from the opposite end of the crowd, sits with spread legs, the drawing hat crooked on his head. “Woooo, one-third of the way there, now who wants to sit on Santa’s lap~?”

“Easy there, ‘Ace of Sales,’” Finn chides, earning a chuckling wave, stealing Rey’s attention.

Unbeknownst to her, Ben stews, and remains stewing when his turn finally arrives, and he receives a sleek black tie. One to add to a gathering collection. By Hux’s snakelike grin, he can guess who it’s from.

The party doesn’t hold together long after the Secret Santa finishes, employees beginning to grumble. Finn claps his hands twice, gleaning resistant attention—as though in a crowd of kindergarteners. “The front desk has your room keys ready—due to budget cuts we are grateful that you have already signed the necessary waivers to share rooms with a coworker of the same sex. Under no circumstances does First Order Insurance condone driving under the influence.”

Poe blows a raspberry at that, spouting some nonsense about sharring a kiss under the “Mistle-Poe,” but nonetheless seems agreeable. Some employees hang around to help clean up their mess, but are otherwise too worn out to bother trying, already keen on their own rooms in this new hotel.

Meanwhile, Ben frowns, stuck helping reload the catering truck and wondering what the hell kind of funding his company is getting into. Had he really signed off on all this? Having forgone his coat, he puffs hot air into his hands as the truck drives away in the gentle snowfall, lumbering back into the hotel. He snatches his overnight bag and breaks for the lobby, this whole night feeling like a complete waste of time.

Until he sees her.

Alone in the foyer, Rey stands, her coat hanging over her arms as she gazes thoughtfully up at the tree, its lights shining their reflections in the ornaments like stars.

Silently, he comes to stand beside her, looking at the tree, wondering if he can see what she sees. If he could ever see anything at all.

“Not going to your room?” he asks quietly, trying his best not to sound too intrusive—as he knows he often is.

Rey shakes her head. “Rose and I were supposed to stay together. But she and Finn…”

Her silence betrays her mild embarrassment—and triggers his own. “I see. So you’re going home?”

She doesn’t respond to that for a while, simply staring at the tree, that same, distant look of concern on her face. That look he would give anything to replace with something brighter. “They shut my heat off,” she murmurs at last, her voice soft. Lost.

Suddenly, Ben understands. Understands so clearly now, all of the signs correlating into one, stark image of _her._ He realizes then why she had come to him about her holiday bonus, leaving in such earnest, concealed despair.

She’s alone.

Just like him.

“My father…” Ben says softly, staring at the tree. Rey looks to him then, but he cannot bear look back, losing himself in the blurring lights. “…was killed in a car accident six years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rey whispers, her eyes pinched with pity. “I know what that’s like.”

“I knew there was more to you not drinking,” Ben confesses, finally meeting her eye. “Even if you were old enough, you never would.”

Rey smiles at him, then, her lips thinly sealed. “Thanks for the cactus.”

He lets her have her misdirect, scoffing away his sudden urge to laugh. “You’re welcome.”

She sighs, turning a glum look onto the lobby chairs. “I guess I’ll just wait down here until they’re finished,” she mourns, tired and resigned.

Ben watches her waddle towards the couch, reminding himself to keep his eyes under control. “Just get your own room.”

Rey skewers a frown at him, plopping her rump in the couch cushion with firm resolution.

 _She can’t afford it, you fool._ He frowns as well. He should be more thoughtful. On the verge of awkward, six-ought-foot panic, he opens his mouth. “You can have mine.”

She quirks a brow at him, her thumb pausing its hypnotic rub against the cactus’s pot. “I thought they assigned those already.”

He can’t help but smirk at her pride. Feigning only a mild disinterest, he turns toward the clerk. “Would you rather sleep in the lobby?”

Rey breathes in, her collar rising as though in preparation for a hefty retort, but it extinguishes itself from her nose. She stands, re-shouldering her small overnight bag, refusing to meet his eye. “Thanks.”

They approach the desk without preamble, and Ben asks for his room under the First Order Insurance reservation. He and Rey are shocked—yet still not surprised—to find that his ‘partner’ for the night had been Finn, who is conveniently… otherwise occupied.

The woman behind the desk extends the card-key to the room. Unthinkingly, Rey and Ben reach out for it at once. Their fingers brush and bump, sending a spiral of sparks through their skin. Rey jumps and moves away—and suddenly muffles a not-quite curse.

Ben stares, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she hisses, obviously in pain. She moves to cradle her hand. Ben spots a flash of red before her bag slips off her shoulder. He catches it by the strap before it can jostle her arm, easing it away from her as she’s distracted. Grunting for a bandage from the clerk, he hands it over quickly—just as Rey pulls a cactus spine from the pad of her pointer.

Guilt pools in him as she wraps it up tightly, his grip nearly crushing the card in his hand. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she assures, carefully holding the cactus. Her small smile is wry—enough to placate, but never satisfy. “Dangerous Christmas present, Mister Solo.”

He nearly rolls his eyes at the name, but that would mean taking them off of her, which, in the golden glow of the lobby, he really doesn’t feel like doing. “A sharp gift for a sharp woman.”

At that she shows her teeth in a wide grin, and it feels like all is forgiven. After some haggling, she lets him follow through an offer to carry her things. Really, it’s not heavy, but he doesn’t want to leave her just yet in a hotel crawling with drunk employees.

And the thought makes him fully aware of what they’re current position outside of the hotel room may look like.

He opens the door for her in an effort to be chivalrous, telling himself he’ll just set down her bag, turn on his heel, and leave. It’s with a look of intense focus that he trudges inside, dumping the bag on the edge of the bed—

Bed. As in singular.

He blinks at it, for a moment unable to compute its presence. Suddenly, Finn’s flight to share a bed with Rose—rather than himself—makes more sense than Ben’s more… _carnal_ assumptions.

Damn budget.

He only returns to himself when Rey moves to stand near him, closer than he would prefer—though not in the way of discomfort. “Thanks for this,” Rey murmurs. “If there’s anything I can do—”

He shuts that train of thought down instantly, before his lesser half can think to provide ideas. “Don’t mention it,” he rumbles, unintentionally breathing in the scent of her. She smells like peppermint and pine, and perhaps the slightest hint of strawberries. His gut wrenches; he thinks he might throw up. “Excuse me,” he grunts, stepping past her towards the bathroom and unceremoniously slamming the door behind him.

Rey blinks, her stomach fluttering. She presses against the heat rising in her neck as she sets the cactus on the nightstand.

She checks the clock. It’s still relatively early in the night—the nine o’clock news should be starting right about now. Thinking of nothing better to do, she moves her bag to the floor and hunts for the remote, flipping to the local station and trying to keep her more primitive thoughts off the very handsome man mere footsteps away.

In the facilities, Ben splashes his face with cold water, rubbing vigorously over his eyes to combat the warmth pooling under his skin.

When he looks up he sees his reflection in the mirror, and for not the first time he does not like what he sees. He looks guilty of treason, and for all he knows he might as well be. To have depraved thoughts about Rey—his _employee,_ for fuck’s sake!—could be perhaps the most perverted notion ever contrived since his days as an erstwhile teenager.

Rey is indeed a beautiful woman, and like all beautiful women not without her sex appeal. He has seen her legs in hose and pencil skirts, has caught himself climbing their graceful slopes more than once. And of course there is her formidably feminine height, the flawless slope of her nose and dust of freckles scattered like fall leaves, her lips smooth and—

He swears, gripping onto the ledge of the sink, rocking slightly. His sweater feels overheated, his pants a bit too tight.

Obviously he shouldn’t try masturbating here. The hotel walls are likely so thin that the neighbors would be able to hear him unzip his pants. Taking a deep breath, he promises himself a slight indulgence when he gets home. Perhaps he may try porn again—anything so long as his thoughts don’t betray him and lead back to her. She deserves more than that.

More than him.

When he musters up the courage to come out, Rey is at the curtain, gaping out the window.

He tries not to linger on how amazing she looks. Even tired and ragged from a long day, her hair slightly disheveled and finger bandaged, she couldn’t be less perfect if she tried.

_“Again, we would like to advise all citizens in the Couruscant and Bespin counties to stay indoors until the severe weather recedes. Forecast is calling for heavy snow and sleet until about six a.m. tomorrow. Snow plows will be actively laying down salt as soon as possible to provide better traction on those slick roads.”_

_“This weather really came out of nowhere, didn’t it Cassian?”_

_“That’s right, Jyn. Looks like Mother Nature has decided to work overtime for the holidays. We’ll be keeping you all updated in the event of any changes. As of now, the storm is heading…”_

Ben paces quickly to the window, drawing the opposite curtain. He stares out in disbelief at the roaring din of snow whirling through the night. Through the blur of sleet he spots the streetlamps determinately lit, but no headlights in sight.

When he lets the curtain fall, having seen enough, Rey turns to stare at him. “You’re not going out in that.”

He can tell she’s worried, and it doesn’t help his current _predicament_ in the slightest. “I’ve driven in snow before.”

“It’s not just snow,” Rey contests. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll be alright,” he asserts, his tone a bit more biting than he intends. He turns on his heel, forgetting his overnight bag in his effort to make for the door, knowing that staying any longer would be more dangerous than the tempest beyond that window.

“Please don’t!”

He pauses, shocked, looking back to find her wide-eyed and shaking.

She unclenches her fists. “Please don’t. If something happens to you, then it’s my fault.”

He would argue with her, but that look in her eyes strikes him with that feeling he had six years ago. That negging sensation that there was always _something_ that could have been done differently. It was insanity, _Hell,_ and there are days when he knows that, deep down, he’s never escaped it.

To condemn her to that same fate, if something _did_ happen to him… Knowing that she truly does care enough about him to feel so strongly…

It’s a temptation he cannot allow.

He sighs, shaking his head at himself. “I’ll book another room.” He meets her eyes, trying not to let his overflowing emotions overtake his control. “Goodnight, Rey.”

She doesn’t reply, watching as he moves to pick up his bag, until, “You could stay.”

Bent over, he pauses, his hand frozen and grip tight around its handle. He looks up at her, unable to do anything else.

Rey swallows, feeling insane for what she’s proposing, but unwilling to stop herself. “This room is already paid for,” she reasons, her face an impassive mask of seriousness while her mind riots behind her tongue. “Besides, we know each other. No one would blame us.”

She sounds like the devil on Ben’s shoulder who’s been whispering the same things these last sixty seconds, her logic so sound as it lines up with his more basic desires.

What sends him standing, however, is the image of Finn stumbling back into this room, Rey alone and unaware as he slips in beside her, sapping up her warmth, her face the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

Ben takes a step closer, letting Rey feel more of that more deadly aura as he looks down at her, his voice bowing before her. “Are you sure?” he asks, searching her eyes.

Rey feels spit gather on her tongue, and resists the urge to swallow, her throat dry, body suddenly parched and thirsty. This is the side of him she has scantly seen before, with his business suits and strong, broad shoulders, towering over all others.

She never thought of herself as a submissive woman. Whenever life called for her, she had to reply with strength—and to hold her own, especially at her age, she had to grow up quickly, show no fear.

But she is not afraid of Ben—she never has been, nor felt any inclination to. Whenever there was office gossip, she refrained from joining in, never seeing what they made him into. Just… _him._

And _he_ is… _stunning._ In barely a moment he already has her pulse racing, his nearness overwhelming her senses with, what her research might call, pheromones. For the first time in her life a man has made her feel weak-kneed and laden with filthy curiosities, his dormant dominance waking her along with him and plunging her into an aching awareness.

It’s all she has in her to hold his eyes. “Yes.”

 _She consented to it,_ his mind hiccups. Or, of course, having him in the room. The notion that he will be here if Finn tries anything is a reassurance, and of course he knows Rey is aware of the potential complications if anyone discovers their sharing a room.

And _just_ when his erection was finally under control.

She uses the bathroom first, changing into her pajamas. He’d planned to go shirtless-and-sweatpants, like he does when at home, but given certain company decides that’s too brash, and keeps on his clothes.

When she emerges she wears perhaps the cutest set of nightclothes he’s ever seen, the sleeves long and silkily cotton-cream, her shorts—oh, fuck—a gentle brown to compliment the milky smoothness of those legs.

And her feet have the cutest toes.

Ben averts his eyes; it takes a true man to know when he is royally screwed.

Instead of climbing into bed, she sits on her knees on its thin, heavy duvet, looking up at him. “Sorry if I snore.”

“It’s,” he clears his throat, trying to level his voice and not sound like some pubescent, recently-shaken bag of hormones. He turns and slinks down to the floor, laying his back against the foot of the bed. Yes, this seems like a good place to die. “It’s fine.”

Rey cocks her head at him, a smile cracking up on her face. “What are you doing?”

He glances up at her over his shoulder, neck straining. “Just… settling.”

Rey grins at that. While a part of her feels a bit offended that he wouldn’t try to leap into bed with her, at least he didn’t, well, leap into bed with her. She moves to lay on her stomach, resting her chin on her folded arms. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a legitimate sleepover, before.”

He blinks at that. “Really?” he asks, though it sounds more disbelieving than he means it to.

She nods, turning to lay her head on her cheek. His eyes are closer this way, the sound of the television dying in the background as she takes them in. They’re dark, the rings of deep soil widening the natural territory of his pupils, making them appear bigger than they truly are. It’s almost hypnotic; comfortable enough to lull her to sleep—and yet oddly exhilarating at the same time.

Ben lets his legs drop to the carpet, and reclines his head onto the bed, unaware of the gaze fixed upon his throat as hungrily as a predator targeting her prey. Finding nothing to say, he says nothing at all, letting the silence cocoon them both in its warmth and comfort as the sleet batters against the window.

“Ben?”

“Mm?”

“Can I… tell you something?”

 _Ah, so the sleepover cliché is true, after all,_ Ben thinks, amusing himself. This is perhaps as close to pillow-talk as he will ever get with Rey, so he replies, “Shoot.”

“I’m quitting.”

He opens his eyes at that, turning his head to look at her. He suffers the uncomfortable angle with a pinched brow, more interested in her than his position. “What?”

“I’m leaving the First Order,” Rey murmurs, feeling good to confess this to him. “I’ve been talking to Finn and Rose, and they both helped me find a job downtown. It’s close to the community college, and… I’m going.”

He blinks, almost unable to comprehend it all. “When?” he asks, trying not to sound like a man punched in the gut and _still_ clutching onto her presence—realizing how quickly it will be gone.

She draws her lip between her teeth, whispering a shy, yet gleeful, “Today was my last day.”

How Ben didn’t know about this, he isn’t sure. Yes, Rey is a very private woman. Perhaps she had gone to human resources… to _Finn_ from human resources.

Of course. It makes sense to Ben, and for a moment he feels more joy and loss than he ever thought he could feel. His first instinct is to feel happy for her, and of course that devil’s implication that they could officially fuck each other’s brains out without the legal jargon in the way… But then there is the sadness he knows he will feel later, when the office is happy about the approaching weekend and Rey isn’t standing by the water coolers, paper cup in hand and that breathtaking smile on her face.

So he tries to stay on topic as best as he can, if only to torture himself by seeking more information. “Where are you going?”

“Not to a competitor, so don’t worry,” she teases. _She’s even more beautiful when she teases._ “It’s actually a flower shop.”

He scoffs good-naturedly.

“What?” she drones, mockingly offended. “I _like_ flowers.”

“I know you do,” he replies, jutting his eyebrows in the general direction of the cactus.

She laughs softly at him, feeling comfortable this way. Like she could tell him anything. “…I’m going to start looking for a new apartment, too. Something more affordable. More sunlight.”

Ben nods. The city is not the best place to receive a lot of sunlight, but with her determination, he’s certain she will find a suitable place to plant her roots and grow. “Good.”

Rey studies his face, the hollow feeling of his support like the streaming smoke of a burnt candle wick, threading and dancing though her with searing blackness, as if something bright has been extinguished.

While Rey would like to think of herself as an intuitive woman, there is so little she can claim to know without doing the proper research. It was how she learned to take care of herself, to prepare for the worst no matter how much she hoped for the best. Knowledge was her power, her strength.

So does knowing so little about Ben make him her weakness?

The smallest things about him _are_ weakening. Temptingly so. In her more private moments Rey would not shy away from the thought of romance. As she’s grown into her body, certain biological transformations had seen to that and, of course, its more primitive cousin, lust.

It would be a lie to say she’d never lusted after Ben Solo. Even now he smells like soap and that chemical brew of skin and pheromones, natural things mixed with man-made creation. She wets her lip, suddenly feeling dry, unquenchable.

Yes, there is lust there. But something else, too.

Something she wants to know.

“…Ben?”

He opens his eyes, turning back to her. His name in her voice, so soft without that curtain of professionalism coating it like a hard shell, makes him feel short of breath. “Yes, Rey.”

Her gaze falls to his lips, suddenly so intimidating with their pillowed softness. She summons her courage, and whispers, “Can I… kiss you?”

Ben gawks at her, speechless as a rerun of a Christmas parade plays distantly on the television.

Rey curses herself internally, regretting her decision to ask. Here he was, being a perfect gentleman, and of _course_ she had to just open her impulsive mouth and make everything awkward. Just _what_ had she thought she could get away with; kissing her boss?!

Or, ex-boss.

Just as she’s about to move away and bury herself under the covers, set on hunkering down until morning when they can part ways and leave this moment as some cringeworthy memory, Ben’s eyes both widen and darken, as if trying to swallow her whole. “Yes.”

Rey blinks, heat rising in her face. Her heart begins pounding, prepared to burst from its cage. She inches closer, drawn in by the warmth radiating from his body. Could it truly be possible for a _face_ to smell this nice? “Really?” she murmurs, unable to escape the clutch of his eyes.

He releases her then, capturing her lips in his gaze, angling his neck closer. She can feel him breathing, hear the rustle of his pantlegs as his long limbs rearrange to draw near, offering himself to her. “Yes,” he rumbles, his voice melting her into the bed. His lips graze hers, the tip of his nose tickling her cheek, sending a delicious shiver down her neck, goosebumps bursting down her arms. “Yes…”

They close their eyes when they meet in the softest press, their necks aching beyond their capacity to care. They linger together there, melded by the chaste curiosity of darker intent, both beginning to understand that which neither truly knows.

When the cool pads of his fingers kiss her cheek, Rey jolts awake from her trance, suddenly in need of breath. She pulls away, staring into the beautiful blur of his face, blinking rapidly as though it would wake her from this dream.

Ben follows her with his eyes, hunger leading him to her. Like a starving man he turns on the ground to kneel, his hand cupping her face as he begs with his touch, returning his lips to hers to taste again—just once more, as fully as she will allow.

The push of his force strums every vein in Rey’s body, playing her pulse like a lyre. She backs onto the bed and he follows, his legs easing from the floor to being him onto the bed with her, his body perched and bowed above her, filling the air around them with buzzing, heated pressure.

Rey sighs when his tongue probes her sensitive flesh, the wet slide too welcomed for her not to open for him. He seems to slip inside by happy accident, a deep, thinly-restrained moan bouncing down her throat from his and settling like a stone between her hips. She grasps the tight-knit cloth of his sweater, surely wrinkling it, silently demanding he stay right where he is.

He obeys, planting himself over her, feeling gravity pull at the tendons of his arms. The rational sector of his brain screams that there is no way this could be happening, that somehow this must be wrong, but for the life of him he could never try to guess why.

He feels on the cusp of liberation as he clings to her lips, feels her taking curiously from him from her soft, pointed, precise little tongue. Just thinking about this had been so forbidden only moments ago, and with that thought a fire rises from deep within him, churning his insides with delicious arousal.

When his fingers move on their own, beginning to creep up the soft cotton of her shirt and slide past the silky warmth of her skin, Rey sighs out, closing her eyes to focus on the way it unravels her. “Ben…”

Ben watches her face, hypnotized and panting at that look of bliss he’d imagined—and yet could never truly fathom—for months cross her delicate features. From below, she doesn’t feel like a co-worker or subordinate, nor he her overseer. She’s just _Rey._

Struggling to catch his breath, everything from his pants to his lungs feeling far too tight and overheated, Ben strokes her bare hip with his thumb, savoring what she will allow. “How far do you want to go?”

Rey opens her eyes, their divine shade darkened by the low hotel lights—and something else. “How far can you take me?” she asks, searching him.

The tremble in her voice betrays that inner vulnerability again, that crack in the dam of her resolve. He doesn’t want to burst her open further, at least not this way—not unless she can prove this is what she wants.

So Ben pauses in his movements, coming to lay beside her. “Rey,” he whispers, turning her to face him. Her breathing is finally beginning to slow as he scours for the right words. “I would take you anywhere.”

Ever the perceptive one, Rey’s expression widens. “You… what?”

“I’ve admired you for a long time,” he confesses, looking away. He feels like a damn schoolboy, unable to look her in the eye when he lays out his more private thoughts. Perhaps she has cracked him open, too. “From the day we met, I never wanted anyone else.”

If that doesn’t boost Rey’s ego, she doesn’t know what else could. “Ben, are you saying you _like_ me?” she leads, eager to hear more from those gorgeous lips.

“That and more,” he replies, finally meeting her eyes. “But yes. I do.”

 _That and more?_ Rey’s mind squawks, boggled at the notion that he could really feel that way. She may be tempted to think he is lying, but he’s never lied before—when he’s had plenty of chances to do so to the more unsavory, like Hux.

But even if he isn’t telling the truth, or if by some miracle he _is,_ Rey has already made up her mind.

So she leans forward, placing a lingering kiss on his neck, just over one of those adorable beauty marks, feeling the victorious slam of his pulse beat against her from his supple flesh. “I like you, too, Ben. I… I like you a lot.”

He gasps, his hold on her tightening, drawing her closer as her words sink into him. They sweeten his blood, filling him with a burning, insuppressible need to consummate these feelings at last.

Ben ducks his head, capturing her mouth in a swift, heated kiss. She muffles her surprise against his tongue, the taste of her teeth like peppermint. Her hands press against his chest, sweeping over the cloth of his shirt as his arm moves under her waist to wrap around her and hold tight.

One of her legs pitches over his hip, the invitation driving him insane. He turns her onto her back, thrilled by the exhilarated spurt of laughter she offers. He stands on his knees, hovering over her as she watches, his heart hammering as he peels the offending sweater away.

Rey gapes, her smile falling at the impressive sight of him, her shock at this decidedly wonderful evolution taking over her glee. Hot lust pools in her shorts and she writhes with excitement, pulse leaping into her throat when he descends on her, crowding her for another kiss.

They are short and sparking, some more wet than others, and others more consuming than she had ever imagined. His lips are massive, his hands covering so much of her body—even as he caresses all but the places she’s heard most men like to touch.

Her fingers are in his hair one moment, his throat, his collar, and his chest the next, her touch dragging fire down his skin. He has to breathe into the pillows beside her hair for several seconds to drive away this dizziness he feels, but before long he’s remembered her, and turns to suckle and lick her neck.

When his tongue glides over her flesh Rey keens, her legs moving on their own, rising to encircle his masculine hips. His weight settles into her, nearly crushing, and she can feel it—a protrusion, so close to where her body wants it to be.

His hand sweeps down her side and he moans when he realizes his palm has found her thigh. He squeezes the bare skin, savoring the feel of her. He kisses a path down her neck, pressing his mouth over the clothed valley of her breasts. His lips glide down the sensitive patch of her stomach, her shirt having ridden up in their embrace, and he slides until his head rests between her legs.

His thumb teases her inner thigh and she sighs, too eager for embarrassment. “Ben…”

“These legs,” he murmurs, staring at her bended knee. He kisses it noisily, laving his tongue until a wet patch is left to sit on her skin. He strokes her calf slowly, deliberately tormenting her as he blows cool air onto her flesh, pumping cold, hard beats of pleasure through her wild pulse. “I’ve wanted to kiss these perfect legs for _months.”_

He continues his onslaught, jumping from one to the other as Rey melts into the sheets, feeling like she may lose consciousness at any moment, his lips and hands and tongue the best form of torture. “Ben,” she nearly babbles, unable to think in the midst of this worship. “That feels so good…”

“Yes,” he encourages, his fingers encroaching the territory of her shorts, curling around her waistband. “I want to make you feel so good, Rey. Say you’ll let me.”

“Yes,” she pants, lifting her hips, giving him leave to strip her of her bottoms, her mind a swarming hive of desire and impatience. “Take me there.”

“I will,” he vows, never leaving her eyes, his lips parted, his fingers trembling as he tugs, baring her slowly. He has to remind himself to savor it, while his body screams to tear everything between them to shreds and stain their contemptuous existence with cum. “Anywhere you want.”

In the shadows of the room he sees her flesh exposed, the sight of her hissing air past his teeth with the effort of keeping himself at bay. He discards her shorts, slides the tips of his fingers up and down the sensitive insets of her thighs, watching with no small amount of pleasure as she squirms, so clearly wanting his touch elsewhere.

When at last he obeys her silent request, she closes her eyes, opening her mouth. A soft moan trickles out as he moves in patterns down below. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs, leaning over her. He feels the inside of her for a moment before turning back, kissing her cheek as he bears down on her pleasure-point. “So wet for me.”

Rey nods, unable to speak as the deep timbre of his voice rumbles through her. Her nipples catch and itch against the thin layer of her bra, all of her wanting this feeling to last.

But she’s building fast. She bucks into his hand, craving that feeling of him inside again, but he doesn’t let up, beginning to circle faster, to press harder. It feels good—she can hear the obscenity of him playing with her skin, the silky slide of his fingers beckoning her closer and closer to an inevitable peak.

“Ben,” she pants, tossing her head back as a bolt of pleasure shoots through her, coating his fingers again. “Ben, I’m going to—oh _God.”_

“Shh,” he hushes, placing a kiss on the corner of her lips. She watches raptly as his arm moves in pumping jolts, as the tips his long fingers disappear behind the mound of her womanhood. Suddenly he is stretching her, his thumb focused on that spot while he probes deep within for its twin. “You’re going to cum twice tonight, Sweetheart,” he grunts softly into her ear, _“if_ you can be quiet.”

“Wuh, what?” she asks, gripping his hair, anchoring herself as he finds his mark. Her orgasm is getting closer—its fast approach more powerful than she can hold off.

“You don’t want our neighbors to hear,” he whispers, danger rolling off him in waves. Her breasts ache almost painfully in reply, wanting the mouth of that voice on them. “Do you?”

Eager for more of this, ready to go along with his restrictions, Rey shakes her head, biting her lip to hold a deep moan in her throat. Her thighs have started to tremble, her core burning hotter than a star.

He can feel the warning pulses, and crooks his fingers as he continues his merciless onslaught, falling in love with the way she coats his knuckles. She must actually be enjoying this—his challenge and her silence has made her even wetter than before. Withholding a victorious smile, he stoops to suck her neck, licking a long stripe down that precipice over her collar.

It’s enough to send her over, her hips undulating as he coaxes out a long, draining release as the sensations of him everywhere pull her free from herself. Her muscles contract around his hand, sending delightful pulses all through her body. She goes slightly limp as he slows, and watches with hazy eyes as he slips his fingers into his mouth.

Ben groans. She tastes like sweet musk and sweat, the pure gush of her orgasm like a fine wine on his tongue. Proud of his harvest, he settles himself over her, nuzzling her cheek, letting her taste her purity for herself.

The act itself should be filthy, and yet Rey welcomes it, feeling like this gesture transcends words. She’s heard of men who will do this—but to her knowledge has never met one. It feels something like devotion; a thought that makes her feel like crying.

“Thank you,” she whispers, but her lips are covered by his thumb.

His eyes burn into hers, their darkness like searing embers. “You don’t have to say a word.”

Understanding, she nods, wrapping her arms around his neck to kiss him again. They lay entangled until the taste of her becomes only spit again, their hands and mouths in a mindless tangle to remove their clothes. She unzips his pants, eagerly grazing the hot bulge in his underwear before he tugs at her sleeves. She strips away her pajama shirt, then the modest sleeve of her sports bra, shivering and bare on the hotel sheets.

She reaches for the waistband of his boxer-briefs before his large hand envelops her wrist, pausing her. He looks into her eyes with silent question.

There are so many answers she could give. So many things she could say, but now, she cannot bear to break the spell of their silence. With a smile she cups his cheek, nodding as she holds his eyes—and, unwittingly, his heart—in the palm of her hand.

They expose him together, all of him, _them,_ stripped bare at last. Rey nearly ascends to some higher plain when his manhood springs out and slaps lewdly against his abdomen, its tip weeping and blushing the most tempting shade.

Feeling himself turning blue, Ben positions himself between her legs, his chest heaving at the significance of this moment. He looks into her eyes when she takes him, guiding him inside of her, all memory of the past and thoughts of the future abandoned for this present, overwhelming _need._

He thrusts into her gently; she takes him well, any pain she may be feeling tampered down by her ever-fervent resolution to be strong. He lays down, stretching himself over her, feeling their flesh collide, slap, slide as sweat begins to gather.

He kisses her breasts, squeezing the supple mounds of flesh. He does to their peaks as he did to her knee, wetting them and blowing softly. His pounding hips roll into her, slamming him against the raw skin of her clit, and she cries out, unable to help herself.

“Ah, ah,” he rumbles, covering her mouth. Air hisses out her nose as she pants. He flicks his dampened hair from his face to look down at her more clearly as he sets a punishing, pronounced rhythm. The bed begins to rock. “What did I say about noise?”

She whimpers, her lashes fluttering, her legs squeezing around him. Her icy toes tickle the hair at his calves—a little motion of innocent evil he adores.

He thrusts more slowly, and yet continues his hard efforts, driving deep inside of her, etching his place into her. Rey’s mind fogs, her body unable to comprehend the fullness it feels. He reaches deeply within her, his every impact like a bolt of lightning straight through her heart, and if this isn’t love that she feels—then she knows it won’t be long until it could be.

He doesn’t remove his hand as he kisses her temple, her ear. When she shudders it doesn’t matter whether this is some mindless fuck or tender lovemaking, or perhaps somewhere between, on some untouched plain of emotion never before uncovered. Whatever it is falls away when he senses her nearing it again, his free fingers moving to trace that place and send her careening, silently screaming into oblivion.

Her tight body seizes over him, her walls caving him in. He plunges deep into it, finally losing his control. His mind bursts and he pulls out, his cock twitching, spilling seed over her beautiful thighs. They fall through the echoes of bliss together, sighing free of their silence as they move to hold one another close, the cooling of sweat and chemical brew of their coupling easing them into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

They awaken late into the night, or early in the morning. The television shut itself off long ago; one of them must have flicked off the light. Shadows of blue and white streak across the ceiling and the wall—the rain of sleet dancing in the light of the lamp posts beyond the curtain.

His fingers twine through her hair as they watch it together, looming like gargoyles on the edge of their consciousness.

“What are we going to do now, Ben?” she whispers, her breath warm against his chest.

He breathes out, placing a kiss into her hair. He knows that what he wants may be too soon, but… His eyes drift to the cactus, its form watching him expectantly. “You could always stay with me.”

She seems to go very still, and for a moment he is terrified he has lost her completely, until, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel—”

“I _do_ want to feel,” he interrupts, unwilling to let her try to dissuade this. He holds her closer, wanting nothing else. “Rey, I want you to come home with me. I want _you.”_

Through the darkness, he hears her sniffle, her lips peeling into a smile against his skin. Their legs intertwine beneath the sheets, the form of the hotel pillows comforting as they burrow within snugly. “I want you, too.”

“...So you’ll stay?” he asks tentatively, his nose brushing her temple, as though trying to sense her thoughts.

After a moment passes he worries she may have fallen asleep again, until she covers his mouth with her hand, and places a kiss between his eyes.

And it’s the greatest gift he could have ever received.


End file.
